


Lucifer, Tomorrow

by Septembers_coda



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Biting, Crying, Dom/sub, Hurt Lucifer, M/M, Mild Painplay, Romance, Rough Sex, Top Lucifer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 17:10:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6337816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Septembers_coda/pseuds/Septembers_coda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucifer’s in charge here. He’s the seducer, the corrupter, and he’ll take Sam Winchester if he wants to. His own way. </p>
<p>Right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lucifer, Tomorrow

To Lucifer, loneliness was a literal state of grace, as intrinsic to him as wings or rebellion, nothing to be battled or even, usually, acknowledged. It existed and had done so in him for millennia, but that didn’t mean he was _motivated_ by it. He was the Light Bringer! His so-called Fall was the greatest event in divine history. He invented rebellion, and watched the hairless apes imitate it, desecrate it, worship it, and mostly fail miserably at it in the stultifying centuries that followed. He _rebelled,_ and rejected, seduced and corrupted and swept the earth with apocalypse, temptation, evil, sin—all the best stuff. He didn’t need _company._

Odd, then, that loneliness had felt… different, since Castiel had let him in. It was more tangible now, like a presence that was absence, a luxury as he eschewed the company of puling, filthy demons, and a need as he contemplated the debasement and domination of the human race, something he was going to have to get started on soon—with the Winchesters.

Just then Sam strolled into the library in the pathetic Men of Letters bunker Lucifer had just found his way into. He could feel that Cas liked this place. There was a faint sting in him that echoed the horrific pain at the center of Lucifer, the pain of being cast out of Heaven, and Lucifer gathered that Cas had once been cast out of this place, too. Typical. Lucifer didn’t really get why he cared.

What he got just fine, though, was something he doubted Cas himself had ever understood when he occupied this meat suit. Watching the way Sam moved, his strong, graceful hands as he set aside a stack of books, the brush of long eyelashes on his cheeks as he gazed down at the desk… he knew how Cas would watch this and not understand, maybe, what stirred in him at the sight, but Lucifer understood it quite well. It blended nicely with his own memories of having Sam under his hands in the Cage, subject to his will… yes, now _that_ was a Lucifer feeling among the naïve, retard-angel Cas feelings. It shot straight to his groin and must have pinged something in the energy of the room, too, for Sam looked up just then.

“Cas. Hey,” Sam said crossing part of the distance between them, and Lucifer wasn’t sure he was entirely successful in suppressing an evil smirk. Oh, Sam. Sam, Sam, Sam…

Lucifer cleared his throat and adopted the ridiculous gruffness. “Hello, Sam.”

Maybe that wasn’t quite right? Sam gave him a quizzical look. “When did you get here?”

_So used to having an angel in your pocket that his presence doesn’t even matter anymore, Sam? Oh, you’ll be sorry for that._ “I am looking for information on the Darkness,” he answered evasively. Even when trying to act like a trusted friend, (read: sucker) Lucifer still had an allergy to giving a straight answer.

Sam gave a soft, amused snort of breath, and Lucifer felt Cas stir down deep. Wow. He really liked that not-laugh of Sam’s. Could it be there was more to this little man-crush than Lucifer had first thought?

“Well, yeah. But Dean and I have combed this place pretty good. I don’t know if the Men of Letters even really knew the Darkness existed. First time this library has ever really let me down.” He absently patted a centuries-old leather volume as he spoke, and Lucifer felt Cas squirm again. He made a decision then.

_OK, then, _he sent down to the depths where Cas was imprisoned._ I’ve got the cure for what ails you. _

He stepped closer to Sam—uncomfortably close by normal human standards, but apparently not out of character for Cas, because Sam noticed, but seemed unsurprised. He looked into Lucifer’s eyes and frowned a little. Lucifer adjusted his expression carefully, trying to look maudlin and pathetic.

“Something on your mind, Cas?”

“Yes,” Lucifer answered, and was proud of the stilted monotone. He was getting better at this. He gave a dramatic half-turn toward the table and away from Sam—pretending to be upset, but really just engineering a brush against Sam—hip touching leg, the skin of Sam’s forearm whispering against the back of Lucifer’s hand, and ah! There it was. Sam’s breath quickened for the barest second, and something went through him, a thrill, a response, Lucifer was sure of it. There _was_ an opening. And if there was one thing Lucifer excelled at, it was finding a way through any opening.

“What is it?” To Lucifer’s delight, Sam actually clasped his arm. At that moment, he realized he’d perhaps underestimated his own lust for Sam. He’d simply never had time to attend it before, except in the form of trying to seduce him into being his vessel. This was different. He wanted to be inside Sam, but not in quite the same way.

“You know you can tell me anything,” Sam continued, and God, those puppy eyes were _ridiculous._ Wet, soft, green-gray pools of… of… something insipid Lucifer was too lazy to identify, but damn. Castiel was sure getting restless down there, and Lucifer could hardly blame him in this case. Sam Winchester was, in fact, a damned beautiful man. Ripe for corruption, for lust and coveting and every sin Lucifer could think of, and of course, he could think of (and perform) them all.

Lucifer sighed dramatically and looked away, even while leaning into and subtly encouraging Sam’s touch. “I don’t know if we can win this one, Sam,” he improvised. Yes! Last night on earth speech, a sure thing. On impulse, he turned abruptly back to Sam and clasped his other arm, leaning into the one that clasped his so they were face to face, gripping each other.

Sam gazed at him, all doubt gone from those stupid-beautiful eyes now, and gripped his arms hard. “No one ever said we’d always win, Cas,” Sam said sadly. Lucifer frowned. He’d expected rah-rah, fight-to-the-death, you’ll-never-take-our-freedom fire, not this… this soft acceptance. This understanding of reality.

Sam squeezed his arms again, recapturing his attention. “I honestly don’t see how we can win, either,” he continued. “But I’ve thought that before, and I was wrong. It doesn’t even matter that much, honestly. Win or lose, like Dean says, we’ll keep grinding. If we go down, at least we’ll go down fighting.”

Grinding, going down… it would be utterly unlike Lucifer not to respond to the subconscious sensuality of Sam’s word choice, and utterly unlike Cas to understand it, and utterly like Lucifer to take full advantage of both knowledge and naïveté. 

Boldly, he stepped forward so they were chest-to-chest, released Sam’s arm and reached up to touch his face. A flicker of surprise, but Sam didn’t step away, and this time there was an audible hitch in his breath.

“I’m not sure that’s how I want to go down,” he said softly, parting his lips. He stroked from Sam’s cheek around to the back of his neck, curling his fingers in his hair. He moved even closer, his mouth a bare inch from Sam’s.

“Sam,” he whispered, reaching all the way down for Cas’s feelings, infusing his voice with all Cas’s thwarted longing, putting a quieting hand to his own rising lust, quelling it for this delicate moment… and it worked. Sam’s eyes widened for a fraught moment. There was a beat when he might have drawn away. 

Instead, he kissed him.

Lucifer felt a surge of triumph, and he couldn’t honestly say if it was his own or Cas’s, and was it really triumph? Really only the pleasure of conquest or the ultimate grift? Because it felt… he hated to use the word, but it felt _purer_ than that, and more, and he pulled Sam close and kissed him hard and deep, urging those fine, expressive lips apart, pouring heat into Sam’s delicious, responsive mouth.

Their desire spiked. If anyone knew exactly what to do, it was Lucifer. He ran his hands over Sam greedily, possessively, pushing his clothes aside to touch bare flesh, and Sam’s hyper-responsiveness, his near-hysterical sensuality, told Lucifer that it was far from the first time Cas had crossed his mind this way.

Sam returned his caresses with an aura of pleased surprise, and when Lucifer momentarily came up for air, he gasped. “I… I thought a lot about what it would be like to kiss you, Cas, but I didn’t expect it to be like _that.”_

Oh, Sam. You have no idea. Lucifer gave a wicked grin, but was surprised at the tone and the words that came out of his mouth: “There is so much more I wish to give you, Sam,” he whispered. So sincere. So Cas…

They stumbled down the hall, Sam leading Lucifer to his bedroom without realizing Lucifer didn’t know the way. They fell onto the bed together, each trying to undress the other until somehow they got all their clothes off, and Sam fumbled in the bedside table for a moment, finally pulling out a tube of something.

Lucifer scanned the label. Ah. Yes, there were some… innovations since the last time he’d done this within a vessel. Sam uncapped it, but Lucifer took it from him.

“Lie down,” he commanded hoarsely. “On your belly.” Sam looked surprised—Lucifer grinned at the idea that Sam had thought he’d be on _top_ —but he obeyed, and gasped, then groaned when Lucifer boldly penetrated him with lube-covered fingers, spreading it into him firmly and sensually.

Never one to beat around the bush, he pushed Sam into the position he wanted him in and promptly mounted him. He was about to start thrusting when he felt an inexplicable hesitation in himself—was that Cas? What was he saying? Insisting on something, but what?

“Yes,” Sam gasped, and Lucifer felt the resistance fade. This was apparently what Cas was waiting for. “Yes, Cas, do it!” He arched back against Lucifer and writhed sensually at the penetration, moaning, and that was all—more than Lucifer needed; his own lust and need spiked and he fucked Sam like, he now realized, he’d always wanted to.

This was apparently Sam’s first time with a man, and there was some pain, but of course Lucifer wasn’t one to hesitate at this. He thrust deeply, and not all of Sam’s gasps and cries were of pleasure, but as Lucifer let the pain sweeten and intensify his ecstasy, he felt that happen in Sam, too, and grew rougher rather than gentler, fucking Sam harder the more he cried out beneath him.

He wrapped his arms hard around Sam, leaning forward to rub his cheek against his back, running hard hands over Sam’s chest and belly, biting his shoulder and the back of his neck. Sam’s groans intensified as Lucifer filled his mouth and hands with his flesh, finally grasping Sam’s cock and tugging, gentler than his other caresses, feeling the hot stiffness with pure, admiring pleasure, stroking in rhythm with his thrusts, drawing exactly the perfect, shouting orgasm he wanted from Sam.

Sam collapsed forward, trembling, afterward, but Lucifer delayed his own pleasure, continuing to thrust. He knew that it hurt Sam and that Sam liked it. He fucked him harder, pulling him to his knees and grasping his cock again, which grew hard in his hand. He released it, still thrusting, biting and coaxing and teasing Sam, tugging his hair, thrusting his face into the pillow while he rode him hard, occasionally reaching around to stroke his cock, never enough to get him there, until Sam was begging for release.

_Yes,_ Lucifer thought. _You should beg me. You should always have been begging to take me inside you._

This was Lucifer. This was why he had sex—to dominate, and control, but looking at Sam’s beautiful body beneath his, he found something else inside him—strange, unexpected; was this tenderness? He acted without thinking, folding Sam’s body into his, drawing him back against his chest, gently caressing him into the release he’d begged for. Lucifer found his own, explosive, intense, but so much softer than he expected, a long wail escaping him in a voice he didn’t recognize as he spilled into Sam. 

What wrapped around his heart now, what made him turn Sam in his arms, curling tightly around him and pressing their bodies, sweating and trembling, together, and made him kiss Sam’s mouth over and over… he didn’t recognize it. It sent a low thrum of panic through him—it had been so long since there was anything he didn’t recognize, anything that wasn’t laced with centuries of cynical knowledge, that he hardly knew what to do.

Castiel did. Lucifer could feel him, closer to the surface than ever. Dangerously close. Wait. This was _his_ idea. He had decided to take and ravage Sam Winchester, to dominate him, to satisfy pure carnal lust, and perhaps to torment him with later, and Castiel, too. _Look what I got that you never got! And look what I’ll do with it!_ he would crow. He would use Sam up and leave him broken, heart and everything else. He was _Lucifer._ That was what he did!

So… why couldn’t he move? Why did he lie there, accepting the most disgustingly sweet caresses from those huge, beautiful hands, listening to the soft murmur of those beautiful lips against his ear saying… saying…

“I love you, too,” said Lucifer. 

What? No! Where did that come from? He couldn’t… well, of course he could _say_ it, if it got him what he wanted, but…

He was just having an off moment. He would gather his strength, and soon, he would make Sam Winchester, and Castiel, who purred like a kitten inside him… he would make them pay. They would be sorry they’d seen him like this. As he brushed tender kisses over Sam’s brow, he contemplated killing him. In front of his brother. And then, the rest of the world. He would destroy it all, watch it burn, show his father what it meant to betray his most loving son… they would _all_ pay.

He tried to picture it—the screams, the agony, the betrayal, but the details kept slipping through his fingers. Images of chaos and streets running with blood faded, replaced by the soft shadows of Sam’s smile; the tender look in those hazel eyes drove away the Fall, and the Cage, and the battle with Michael, and his father. Sam. He cradled Lucifer close, and his happiness infused him, drove light into him, and Lucifer gasped, because it hurt, it hurt… nothing should hurt him…

“Cas,” Sam said softly. He brushed tears—tears!—from Lucifer’s face. “I’m so glad. So happy you’re here. If you’re with me, I can face anything.”

_Oh, we’ll see if you can face what I’ve got for you…_ he thought, or tried to think, but then why did he kiss him? Why, when Sam reached to the end of the bed to pull a blanket up over them, did he cuddle into Sam’s shoulder as if he belonged there? And what was this feeling of… _peace_ that stole over him? Why, when Sam cradled him close and Sam’s breath became slow and even, did Lucifer’s eyelids grow heavy? He could hardly hold the flames of the burning world in his mind. He could hardly imagine torturing Sam, or killing him… or anyone. Like he always did—like he would. He _would._

Tomorrow.


End file.
